


There's Something You can Use

by princessmickey



Series: Hey Mickey! [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, EMT Ian Gallagher, Feminization, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Mickey is a Gallagher damnit, Mickey wears a dress, Minor spit kink, Multiple Orgasms, O ring gags, Praise Kink, also there's felching, enjoy motherfuckers, mild Bdsm elements, soft smut, soft submission, this fic is HORNY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23444014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessmickey/pseuds/princessmickey
Summary: "Mickey sets the beer gently on the end table and folds to his knees between Ian's, placing his hands on Ian's thighs. One was closed in a fist, the tail end of a black strip of leather peeking out."Ian's had a bad day at work.Mickey just wants to comfort his husband in the best way he knows how.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Hey Mickey! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625089
Comments: 16
Kudos: 165





	There's Something You can Use

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was inspired by a request from one of my readers.  
> I'm a slut for o-ring gags and Ian being in control of a subby bottom Mickey.  
> Side note, I totally understand how unrealistic it is for Ian's giant dick to fit through an o-ring, but just bear with me. Also, multiple orgasms are not very common for penis-having people, however, I enjoy the concept no matter how unrealistic it may seem.  
> Sue me.
> 
> As always, the title is inspired by the song Hey Mickey by Toni Basil.

Mickey's curled up on the couch watching some late-night television when he hears the front door open and shut, then sees his husband amble into the living room. 

He looks exhausted as he falls gracelessly onto the couch with a long sigh, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. 

Mickey sets his beer down. 

"Long day?" 

Ian nods.

Mickey takes in his street clothes and damp hair. 

"You showered at the station." 

Ian nods again, mouth a tight, hard line. 

That means that whatever had happened that day had been pretty nasty. Ian always showered at the station when he had a long day. A long day meant a gory, gruesome day that no normal person would be able to handle. Mickey still doesn't know how Ian does it. He's so _strong_ and so _good_. 

Mickey doesn't push, though. If Ian wants to talk about it he will. 

"Want me to grab you a beer?" 

Ian's smile softens and his eyes crack open. 

"I'd love one, sweetheart."

Mickey leans over and kisses his cheek, light and sweet before unfolding himself and standing up with a stretch to go rummage in the fridge. 

He comes back a little later to find Ian staring at the ground between his parted knees, lost in thought. Replaying whatever it was he'd gone through that day in his mind. 

Mickey sets the beer gently on the end table and folds to his knees between Ian's, placing his hands on Ian's thighs. One was closed in a fist, the tail end of a black strip of leather peeking out. 

"E?" Mickey asks, quiet, gentle. 

Mickey can almost see him come back online, awareness bleeding back into his green eyes as they slowly find his own. They widen a little each second they trail up Mickey's body. 

"You changed," Ian breathes dumbly and Mickey huffs a laugh, nodding. 

"Yeah," he breathes, reaching down to smooth out the dress, blue with cap sleeves and a white collar, Ian's current favorite. 

"Pretty," is all Ian says in response, reaching out to trace the lace detailing of the collar, the little pearl buttons at the base of his throat. 

Mickey beams up at him and turns his other hand, the one holding something, over and uncurls his fingers. 

Ian's eyebrows go up as he looks from the item in Mickey's palm back to his blushing face. "Yeah?" He breathes, one corner of his mouth lifting into that smirk that Mickey couldn't resist if he wanted to. 

Mickey nods. "I wanna take care of you," he whispers, his other hand coming up to rub lightly at his thigh. "Wanna make you feel good," he murmurs, biting his lip.

They don't do this very often. Usually when Ian has a bad day at work, or something's stressing him out, or when he's a little manic and it's gonna be a few days until they can get him into the clinic. 

Mickey loves doing it. Loves knowing that he can be the one to comfort Ian, to make him feel better, to give himself over to his husband and be used for something good. 

Ian plucks the leather band out of Mickey's hand, taking it between both of his own to turn it over, inspecting it. 

Mickey places both hands, palms down on Ian's thighs and looks up at him with wide, trusting blue eyes, letting his mouth fall open silently. 

Ian's smirk widens and turns fond, his eyes softening at the sight. 

"Oh, honey," he breathes, leaning down to place the ring between Mickey's parted lips, between his teeth, fastening the thick, buttery leather band behind his head with gentle precision. He kisses Mickey's hot, red cheek sweetly before pulling away to survey his work. "Precious," he whispers, cupping Mickey's cheek for a moment, rubbing gently with his thumb. 

Mickey's eyes droop closed and he sighs, pressing into the gentle touch, already shivering with anticipation. He wants to give Ian the comfort and ease of control, to have his mind focus on something other than the racing thoughts inside Ian's head. 

"You're so good for me, Mick," Ian coos, soft and sweet and Mickey preens at the praise, nuzzling his lover's warm, dry palm. Ian's thumb grazes Mickey's lower lip, already slick with spit. He's already drooling at just the _thought_ of Ian using his mouth. 

Fuck. 

"Open those pretty eyes," Ian instructs, and Mickey complies immediately, blinking up at him slowly, baby blues already gone glassy with desire. 

"There you are," Ian breathes, grinning brightly. "Pretty boy. Look at you. Just fuckin perfect, aren't you?" He whispers, running a hand through Mickey's hair. He likes to keep it a little longer these days, likes the way Ian plays with it. 

Mickey blushes harder and casts his eyes down to the floor. 

"Oh, no," Ian says, "None of that, sweetheart. Eyes on me." His fingers tighten in Mickey's hair and Mickey's eyes snap sharply up, meeting Ian's own amused emerald gaze. 

_Fuck_.

Mickey's eyes flit downwards, to the front of Ian's trousers where he can see him straining against them. When he looks back up, Ian is smirking. Mickey thinks he might die if he doesn't get his mouth on him soon. 

"You want it, baby?" Ian breathes, fingers petting through his hair gently now. 

Mickey nods eagerly, biting back a whine that threatens to bubble up out of him. 

Yes, he fuckin wants it. 

"Go on," Ian whispers, "take it out." 

Mickey's hands tremor slightly as he reaches up and undoes the button, pulling Ian's zipper down slowly before slipping his hand inside, sighing when his palm meets hot, hard flesh, already a little wet at the tip.

Mickey can't fucking wait to taste it. 

He pulls him out, small hand wrapping around him securely. He knows better than to do anything else. Ian hadn't _told_ him to do anything else. 

"There you go, honey. Come a little closer," Ian breathes, tugging lightly on Mickey's hair. 

He shifts forward, carpet scraping lightly against his bare knees and he _loves_ it, hopes there are scuffs on them tomorrow. 

Ian's hand cradles the back of his head gently as he pulls Mickey froward until the tip of his cock is just barely kissing Mickey's plump lower lip. Mickey wants to flick his tongue out, but he doesn't. Ian hadn't said he could do that, and tonight Mickey was being _good_. 

He does whine, high and sweet when Ian finally, fucking _finally_ , starts feeding that gorgeous fucking cock through the ring separating his teeth. He feels him slide over his tongue, hot and heavy, the taste distinctly _Ian_. His hands move to each of Ian's thighs, holding on tightly while Ian fills him up to the brim, not stopping until Mickey feels him hit the back of his throat. 

Then, ever so slowly, he's being pulled off until only the tip remains between his parted lips.

And then he's being pulled back into Ian's cock again with the same slow, deliberate care. 

He sighs happily through his nose, eyes slipping shut as he goes pliant and lets Ian move him however he wants. 

It's _good_ , the way Ian's hand tightens in his hair, the way Mickey can hear his husband's breath hitch every time he swallows around him, the way he can feel Ian's thighs tense under his hands. 

And all Mickey has to do is sit there and take it. All he has to do is be _good_. 

"That's it. God, you're being so good for me, Mick. Lettin' me use your pretty mouth like this. My good boy," Ian praises, voice low and wet and Mickey can only moan and drag his nails down Ian's denim-clad thighs, begging for more. Always begging for more. He just can't fucking get _enough_ of Ian. He knows he'll never be able to get enough of him. 

Ian picks up the pace, as requested, and Mickey knows without a doubt that he's gonna be hoarse in the morning.

He can't fucking wait. 

Mickey can't exactly close his mouth around Ian with the gag in place and he feels spit start to trail down his chin. He feels fucking filthy and he loves it. He wonders idly if he's leaving a wet patch on Ian's jeans every time the redhead pulls him down. 

He's hard between his thighs, aching, but it's an afterthought compared to the knowledge that he's making Ian feel good, giving Ian what he needs, being good for his man. 

Oh, his _man_.

Ian's always had a boyish charm about him, all sweet-faced and kind-eyed. But with Ian's strong thigh caging him in, strong hands fisted in his hair, muscles in his arms flexing as he pulls Mickey's mouth onto his cock over and over and over again, there's no denying that he's a _man_. 

Mickey just spreads his thighs wide, relaxes his throat as much as he can, and holds on. 

It's not long before Mickey picks up on the change in Ian's breathing, the breathy tone his groans take on when he's about to come. 

Ian pulls Mickey nearly all the way off and tilts his head back with a fist in his hair until their eyes meet. Mickey blinks the tears he hadn't known he'd been shedding away. 

"You want me to come in your mouth, baby?" Ian asks, breathless, flushed and absolutely fucking beautiful above him. 

Mickey keens and nods, feeling like he's been punched in the gut, suddenly empty, needing to be filled up. 

Ian just grins and tugs him back down, and Mickey feels himself throb and dribble onto the carpet as Ian begins to lose his rhythm, becoming impossibly harder on Mickey's tongue and Mickey's so fucking ready for it. 

He hears Ian choke out " _baby_ ," followed by a breathy " _fuck_ ", and then suddenly his mouth is flooded with his husband's thick, hot come. 

Mickey squeaks and his hands fly to his lap. It draws out into a moan as his face screws up and he shudders, whole body quaking with the force of the orgasm tearing through him.

Holy _fuck_. 

Ian slowly pulls him off, spit and come spilling down his chin as he does and Mickey shivers at a mixture of that and the feeling of the cold, ruined fabric of his dress sticking to his heated skin. 

Ian quickly undoes the clasp of the gag, pulling it out of Mickey's mouth to toss it aside and then he's leaning down, hauling Mickey up for a filthy kiss, groaning into his mouth. 

Mickey nearly sobs when he realizes that Ian's fucking _tasting_ himself on Mickey's tongue, licking his come out of Mickey's mouth. 

Ian pulls away and rests their foreheads together, their panting breaths mingling between them for a long moment the only sound in their little apartment. 

Ian's hands are petting through his hair and Mickey's sighs and goes limp against him, spent and floaty and sweet, just how Ian likes him. 

"Come up here and lemme take care of you," Ian whispers, tilting Mickey's head back to give him a sweet kiss. 

Mickey pulls away after a moment, biting his lip as he glanced down at his lap, mumbling. 

"What was that, sugar?" Ian cocks his head, leaning in. 

Mickey sighs, cheeks on fire. 

"I said, you don't have to."

"I want to, baby," Ian counters, touching his cheek gently. 

Mickey sighs and shakes his head. 

"I mean, you don't have to cus I already did."

Ian's silent for a moment. 

"You..." He trails off. 

"Yeah." Mickey whispers, refusing to look him in the eye. His head snaps up at the long, low whine that slips out of his husband's mouth. 

"Jesus, _fuck_ , Mickey." 

Mickey doesn't even have time to reply before he's being pulled up roughly into Ian's lap, kissed within an inch of his life while Ian palms at his cock, thumb dragging over the wet spot on his dress and Mickey's shaking, fucking trembling on Ian's lap as he lets him. 

"You're so goddamn _good_ for me, _fuck_ ," Ian growls against his lips. 

Mickey can't catch his breath, just holds onto Ian's shoulders and rocks against his hand as he feels himself harden again, impossibly. 

"That's it, sugar. Go on. Take what you need." 

Mickey's never came a second time this close to the first. But then again, he's also never came without being touched before tonight either. 

Within minutes he's tensing, spilling onto his dress for the second time while Ian sucks a dark bruise onto his neck and Mickey's hand tighten in Ian's shirt, clinging to him while he rides it out. 

"There you go. That's it. So fucking good for me, princess. Fuckin beautiful, Mick." 

Mickey slumps against him, boneless and exhausted and he vaguely feels Ian kiss his cheek, wrap him up in his arms before standing up to carry him to their bedroom. 

He slowly blinks into awareness, unsure of how long he'd been drifting. He finds himself naked, cleaned up, in bed with Ian wrapped around him, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder and neck. 

"Welcome back to earth," Ian snickers against his throat. 

"Oh, hush," Mickey laughs, swatting him in the side. "This can't be earth because there's an alien in my bed."

Ian's laugh is soft and sweet and real, and Mickey knows without a doubt he feels better and all is right that night in the Gallagher apartment. 


End file.
